I did not always want gentleness. It did not displease me to be forced to recognize, and incontrovertibly, and with my whole body, that I was in a man’s arms, those of a true man, and was a slave. Sometimes, I confess, I even wanted the whip, not for its pain, which I feared, but for its proof of domination, that I was owned, and wholly, and was going to be mastered.